


Guard Duty

by GrendelGrowls



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Choking, Consensual Sex, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Lesbians in Space, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Size Difference, Vaginal, Vaginal Fingering, space lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrendelGrowls/pseuds/GrendelGrowls
Summary: An Adepta Sororitas Sister and a female Guardsman stand guard over a recovered artefact. With no way to pass the time, they decide to get to know one another better… maybe a little bit too well.
Relationships: Adepta Sororitas/Imperial Guardsman
Kudos: 52





	Guard Duty

**Author's Note:**

> First: This isn't fic that's hyper-focused on canon. It was written so that you can enjoy it without having to wiki-surf for hours, because sometimes you just want to see ladies getting busy. I'm sure there's canon issues with this, but I don't honestly care about that in this context.
> 
> Second: This was mostly written for a friend who likes "hot space ladies" (her words), but I'm also a huge 40k fan in general, so I thought I'd add to the Lesbian Sisters of Battle Fanfic pile.

The corridors and wall decorations of _His Holy Axe_ were showing signs of wear and tear, the blood-red paint and long-standing banners beginning to degrade and scratch away from years of constant conflict. Although the Lesser Order that maintained and operated it were strong in their conviction, they were limited in number, and it had been many months since even the most basic technical expert had graced their presence. Only statues of the Emperor of Mankind and the ever-loved Saint Celestine remained untouched, with idle Sisters taking great care to fill every crack and wipe away every stain that blemished their golden surfaces. It had become a routine for them, to the point that some would often forget to service their own weapons in favour of cleaning the icons of their faith.

There was good reason for it: the Order of the Divine Cloud were more or less completely alone.

Whether by the Emperor's will or through happenstance alone, they had spent much of their time by themselves, moving from planet to planet and responding to the small distress broadcasts or simpler tasks that their peers were far too aloof to handle. Recruitment, re-arming and restocking had become an urgent necessity, and there was no doubt that they would be branded as heretics for the risky pragmatism they had begun to show.

Nihla didn't think much of it, though. She had more pressing matters to turn to - her guard duty shift. Their last battle, on a planet ravaged by countless Xenos, had given them some spoils of war that few of the other Sisters wanted to approach. Among them was a small box, metallic in nature, with no obvious function or purpose. In theory, it was little more than a brick or building block, perhaps one of many.

Five of their number had died simply trying to pick it up, and it had taken over two dozen Servitors to move it into a storage container for transport to their ship. This was a significant step back, since they had been without a proper resupply for so long that the loss of even a single Servitor became a major step back. Whatever the mysterious and deadly item was, it required constant supervision: even the slightest slip-up could spell death for the entire Order Militant, as well as every other non-Sister who was travelling with them for one reason or another.

Standing several feet away from the crate and listening to the background chants of her Sisters, Nihla kept one hand near her the grip of her Bolter at all times, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. On the other side of the artefact’s container was a single Guardsman, one of the many refugees they had taken on board from their aimless drifting - she, too, had her Lasgun ready to raise at the first sign of trouble.

Initially, Sister Nihla had protested at the idea of standing guard with a member of the Astra Militarum, concerned that their proximity to such an item could quickly corrupt them. After a short explanation, she had understood why this was actually a _benefit_ \- whatever the metal cube was, it would affect a conventional soldier much faster than her faith-shielded mind. As much as she hated the concept, they were using the Guardsman as a warning system, which would give Nihla enough time to gun her down and retreat if something started to happen. Morbid, but undoubtedly effective.

"So, uhh... what's your name?"

It was the first time the soldier - a Cadian, at least according to her armour - had spoken. Her voice betrayed how tired she was, but Nihla didn't hold it against her. She was tired too, although she made sure to keep her usual faithful tone. "Sister Nihla."

"Alright." There was an obvious hint of fear in the woman's speech, a slight waver. "That's... it's nice to meet you, Nihla. I'm Anette, 10th Cadian Armoured. I think."

The final two words clattered around in the Sister's head as she processed them, her hand gently closing on the grip of her weapon. "You think?"

"My regiment left me behind on an emergency Officio Medicae ship after I was wounded. When I woke up from the coma I was in, I was... well, where you found me. I'm not sure if I'm still considered part of the regiment."

"How long ago was this?" Although Nihla relaxed slightly, she prevented herself from feeling a wave of trust. Heretics could lie. _Daemons_ could lie.

It took Anette a second or two to reply, presumably counting dates in her head or trying to recall how much time had passed. "A year and... two months, by Terran time, I think. It feels like that long. I never know how time flows in this bloody Galaxy-"

"It does not matter, Guardsman. We are here to guard and observe this artefact." Vaguely gesturing at the reinforced container than held the likely-corrupted cube, she raised her head up high, refusing to take her eyes off the item. "Nothing more, nothing less. When the opportunity is presented, you will return to your regiment and continue your service to the Emperor."

"But... I don't really want-"

"Do you _not_ wish to serve Him?"

Stumbling over her words, Anette threw up her hands and shook them back and forth, panicking slightly. "I do! I do! I'm not saying I don't want to!"

"Good."

"I'm just... saying that I owe you and your Sisters for rescuing me. If you need more soldiers, I would much rather stay on board and fight for you. If it really _has_ been a year, all of my squadmates are probably dead anyway."

It was an unexpected suggestion, but one that Nihla was surprisingly accepting of. She had been worried that the Guardsman would ask to be left alone on a peaceful planet or given a promotion, two things she didn't have the authority to offer. Not only was the request to join them fairly reasonable, given the situation, but it was also something that they had done multiple times before. "I will have to take your request to the Canoness, Anette. I cannot promise that it will be granted."

"That's good enough for me. I'd much rather serve surrounded by fine ladies like you than the-"

"Why? What makes us different?" Nihla had asked out of genuine curiosity. She didn't fully trust the Guardsman, but that was a statement she hadn't expected, one that seemed backed by a very specific reasoning. Since they were going to be standing guard for quite a long time, it was worth learning about the other woman, if only to pass the time.

A small pink flush appeared on Anette's face and her head dropped slightly, as if she was shrinking away in fear. "Oh, nothing, I just... prefer serving other women. Serving _with_ other women, I mean!" An awkward, forced laugh slipped out of her lungs. "We've got to stick together, you know? As girls?"

"I understand. You are a lesbian. As long as you practice discipline and fight in His name, I do not have any problems with this."

"Oh, really? You don't."

Contemplating whether or not she should let her mask of emotionless faith slip, Nihla scoffed and lowered her guard for but a moment, admitting something that she had only told to a handful of her Sisters in close confidence. "I share your attraction to the female form. Do not think that you are alone - but no matter who we are, we are both instruments of His will and soldiers in His name, and that is all that matters."

The tint on the Guardsman's face grew brighter as she slowly walked around the side of the artefact, her eyes mostly pointed at the metal floor beneath them. "Sister, I... have something to confess."

"Speak."

"I have felt many desires since I arrived on this ship. You and your other Sisters are all... _perfect_. Beautiful. You're tough, tall, ruthlessly efficient and very confident with others, and I have to admit that I find you incredibly attractive. _Sexually_ attractive, even."

"Your words carry a hint of Slaanesh in them, Guardsman. Say them carefully."

Sighing and dropping her Lasgun to the ground, Anette pressed her arms on her chest in the sign of the Imperial Aquila, looking up to make eye contact with the other woman. "Execute me for heresy if you must. Throw me into a fire and burn me alive, for all I care. I find you attractive, and it would be a crime to keep that hidden. I trust the Emperor to guide me through my life, and He brought me to you. If He did not, and I am wrong, then I deserve punishment."

Nihla was... a little bit overwhelmed. It was true that many men and women made their perverse thoughts obvious, but most were too intimidated to voice them, or too foolish to shut up when it stopped being a curiosity. Something about the soldier in front of her was different, though: these were not the words of a hedonist or corrupted deviant, but of a loyal fighter who kept her faith and her personal identity intertwined. She was neither a servant of the Emperor who happened to be a lesbian, nor a lesbian who happened to be a servant of the Emperor. She was both simultaneously.

The Sister took a look around the room. It was almost empty, with nothing but storage crates and unneeded supplies surrounding them. Nobody would check on them for several hours unless she specifically called for help. They had time.

"I am willing to indulge your desires, but only once. Excess bring corruption." Silently thanking the Emperor for her simple Power Armour design, she began to slowly pull off her long gloves and vambraces, ignoring the stunned expression on the Guardsman's face. "You may refuse, Anette."

A surprised smile crept across the shorter soldier's mouth as she pulled off her helmet, allowing her slightly messy black hair to touch the cold air of the ship. She, too, started to remove parts of her uniform, namely the ones that would get in the way - her backpack, her gloves and part of her chestplate.

She was too slow.

Getting slightly impatient, Sister Nihla decided to grab the Guardsman by the shoulder and drag her over to one of the nearby storage crates, literally lifting her into the air by the waist and placing her on top of one at about waist-height. Anette was clearly loving the display of strength, her face now surprisingly red for somebody her complexion. While they had plenty of time alone, the Sister didn’t want to drag things out too long, lest they dip into the excess that Slaanesh would inevitably turn against them.

Anette had already begun to remove the lower half of her combat fatigues, and it took the Sororita hardly any time to finish what her partner had started, pulling down the tough cloth and fabric with a single strong hand. Beneath was a sight that she had only been blessed with a few times: an unexpectedly neat and tidy clitoris, one that had been expertly looked after by the woman it belonged to. Even among her own Order, such care was lacking, although that was more because of their busy schedules.

Gently pushing the Guardsman’s knees apart, Nihla lowered herself down to the appropriate height, brushing her bob haircut into its proper place with one hand. She would never admit it, but her heart was pounding. She was finally going to get to do this again.

A quick glance up at Anette confirmed that she, too, was a little hesitant. They were both soldiers first and lovers second, but if anything, that just confirmed that their faith hadn’t been forgotten.

With a few gentle movements, she placed her head between the other woman’s legs, letting her nose nudge against the tender flesh of her most sensitive areas. A quiet gasp left the soldier’s mouth, but she remained composed, allowing the Sister to continue.

After a second or two to acclimatise to what she was doing, Nihla let her tongue flick out, giving the slit in front of her a quick taste. She was not entirely familiar with experiences like this, but it was definitely pleasing enough to warrant another lick, and another, and another. Her almost robotic disposition began to warm slightly as her brain cottoned on to the fact that she was surrounded by the warmth of another woman, giving her the freedom to relax and break her mind away from the harsh reality around her.

She continued her gentle experiments with the Guardsman’s body, applying her battlefield tactics to the situation. Approach, retreat, flank and move in from another angle: she wanted to please her partner in as short as time as possible, and the gentle licks and tongue pokes that followed were bringing out a few low moans that came from a place of real pleasure.

The legs on either side of the Sister’s head went slightly stiff as she upped her pace by a small margin, taking a strange sense of enjoyment from what she was doing. Pulling out her tongue for a second, she planned out her next set of movements, feeling her fingers start to itch at the idea of a more direct form of contact. No, the tongue would do for now.

Grabbing the legs of the smaller Guardsman, the Sister pulled her forwards, allowing her tongue to reach more places and hit more nerves. She hadn’t found what she was looking for yet, but she knew it was there somewhere – the button that, when hit, would take things further.

A few experimental pokes and motions later, and the nerves on the end of her tongue brushed against the tiny nub she had been hunting, pushing the soldier’s voice to a slightly higher pitch as her moans took on a deeper and more breathless quality.

Even though she wasn’t experienced, at least not to the level she had hoped, something about the way that she was altering her partner’s breathing patterns and causing involuntary groans excited the Sister. Between her legs, she felt the cloth that dangled from both the front and back of her belt begin to grow heavier, presumably absorbing some of the moisture that had begun to soak out of her.

As her tongue began to work harder, pulling even more noises and muscle twitches out of the Guardsman, Nihla realised that they were both being awfully quiet. In her case, she was unsure whether her partner would want it, but Anette was likely used to seeing anything higher than a Servitor as a superior officer. That wouldn’t do.

Drawing her mouth away and raising herself up above the surface of the storage crate, she replaced it with her hand, gently kneading at the soft and _very_ wet inner workings beneath. “Guardsman, you have permission to speak freely. Tell me what you want.”

While Anette was still moaning as she had been before, her breathing had sped up, and she took a moment to gather the air needed to speak. “What… do you… mean?”

“Say your desires, and I shall fulfil them.”

A smile crept across the soldier’s face again as she squirmed under the careful yet unpredictable ministrations of the Battle Sister, finally starting to warm up to the position she had been placed in. “I want… the full might of the Emperor’s… f-faithful…”

She had been given the green light.

No longer feeling like she had to hold back, Nihla allowed her hand to move at a less restrained pace, applying both pressure and movement wherever she could reach. There was no special technique here, no pre-planned system: she was running on her own instinct alone, allowing the woman inside herself to supersede the strict and battle-focused soldier she had become. In response, the Guardsman moaned again, loud enough for the sound to bounce around the entire storage area.

The smaller woman’s legs were twitching much more often, with her breaths becoming ragged and shaky whenever she wasn’t forced to groan out the air she had. Her arms, which had been used to support herself, shot off to the sides as her upper half fell onto the surface of the storage container, no longer working as her brain commanded.

Knowing exactly what was coming, the Sister leaned further over her partner, resting one knee on the top of the container as well. She was staring down at the panicked, sweaty face of a woman who didn’t know if she was _allowed_ to give in yet.

“You may come, Anette.”

She had barely finished speaking the Guardsman’s name before a loud, drawn-out grunt of pleasure left the smaller lady’s lungs, almost as if she was vibrating from the inside out. The walls of her insides began to contract on the Sister’s fingers and a small tide of set fluids started to seep out, filling the air with a scent that Nihla hadn’t been around in a long, long time. _Another woman’s pleasure._

By the time Anette’s body had managed to cease the involuntary movements and let her regain her breathing, she was already looking worn out, but there was a spark in her eye that told the Sister to prepare for something else. They weren’t done here.

Panting, she managed to regain enough breath to speak clearly, looking Nihla directly in the eyes as she did so. “I… haven’t been handled that well in a long time…”

Removing her hand, the Sister gently wiped off the wetness onto the woman’s thigh, watching it shiver at the touch. “Would you like more? We have plenty of time.”

After a short pause to process what had been said, the Guardsman nodded, her hair looking messy and unkempt compared to how it had started. Nihla had expected that answer: in fact, she had been _hoping_ for it. An excuse to cut free from her restraints and training was always welcome, and the nagging voice in her head telling her to be careful had been muffled into a quiet hum.

“Very well. You asked for might. You will receive it.”

Nihla didn’t know exactly what she was going to do. She hadn’t planned ahead, and her brain was running on a combination of different base instincts that all pointed towards very carnal acts. She even surprised herself when her dry hand wrapped itself around the throat of the other woman, gently pressing on the soft flesh. She had choked a handful of her enemies before – admittedly, she preferred the flash of a Boltgun – but this was different. This was _sensual_.

With her other hand, the same one that had entered Anette previously, she stroked against the other woman’s pelvic bones, wanting to give her body a few extra seconds to recuperate. Just as she was about to begin another session of poking and prodding, a light flickered on in her head, flooding it with a single thought that she hadn’t considered before. She began to lean even further over the other woman, eventually crawling up on top of the crate on her hands and knees as if mounting her.

Kneeling here, directly above another woman whose throat she could squeeze at any moment, awoke something inside her. It wasn’t something she had expected to feel, at least not now that she was one of the Sisters, but she knew exactly what it was.

_Control_.

Her head lowered down to the Guardsman’s, and she dropped her voice to a hushed whisper. “From now until I am satisfied, you serve the Sisterhood. You serve _me_. Understood?”

Anette nodded. Her expression had lost all of the stern military attitude that most of the Imperium’s soldiers possessed, showing that she was getting just as interested as Nihla was.

With that, the Sister began another careful set of attacks on the smaller woman’s sensitive area, skipping the slow build-up entirely and going straight into a rapidly-changing routine of motions and applications of pressure. Her fingers danced around one another, independently targeting whatever they could touch whine her other hand lightly pressed on the woman’s neck and turned her moans into loud grumbles. Without as much air to breathe, the soldier’s respiratory pace had shot up, making it much harder for her to groan, let alone speak.

As Nihla continued her finger motions and increased the amount of effort that went into each change of direction or speed, she felt her body starting to heat up even more. She would have liked nothing more to reach down and start pleasing herself in the same way, but that would come later – her mind was awash with so many interesting ideas, but without any of the useful equipment she needed to handle them, she was left with nothing but her own body.

Slowly, the Guardsman’s legs began to tremble again – having already lost herself to the Sororita’s touch, it didn’t take long to push her back up to that level again, especially due to the increased speed and effort that went into everything Nihla was doing to her. A small part of her knew that this was bad – that it opened them up to all kinds of Slaaneshi interference – but she couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the sight of another woman unravelling beneath her fingers.

Just before Anette came again, the pressed down on the woman’s throat, forcing her to let out a quiet and rushed squeak of surprise when her body hit its limit. The raw panic and enjoyment that mixed together on her face was something that the Sister found extremely appealing, and her own body responded in kind, begging her for some kind of release.

Leaving the Guardsman to struggle against her own inner architecture, Nihla pulled away and used her ‘dry’ hand to get to work on herself, pushing through her training and upbringing to satisfy the carnal craving inside her. A low mutter of “Emperor forgive me…” left her mouth as she clenched her teeth together, gently rubbing at her own slit and feeling her legs start to twitch. She couldn’t bear it anymore, and the fact that she was giving in to these feelings made it all the sweeter.

Slaanesh could go and drown themselves. This was for _her_ , and no God of corruption was going to ruin it.

Finally unleashed on her own body, the Battle Sister began to explore herself as she had done oh so long ago, pausing with every new motion to compare it against all others. Every time she moved one of her fingers, she came closer and closer to understanding what her body truly wanted and how she could achieve it. She stared at the panting, exhausted form of the woman in front of her, who was only just taking notice of what was going on, and groaned as she used her own fingers to draw out a range of guttural noises from her throat.

This was a battle, but not a conventional one. It was a battle against herself: she was simultaneously trying to make herself come while also holding back from being too depraved, a combination that made everything much more arousing, especially when it threatened to push her further than she wanted to go. By specifically avoiding the excess that Chaos craved, she was making it all the more exciting, and the Guardsman could clearly see that as well.

“Wow, you’re really getting into that, huh?”

Between panting breaths, she Sister replied, not wanting to waste time with talk. “Help me or be s… silent.”

Pushing herself off the storage crate, the soldier shakily walked over to Nihla, a wide smirk plastered across her relaxed-looking face. “If you insist, _Sister_.” Reaching out, she used one hand to massage the larger lady’s breast, while the other slipped down her torso, lightly brushing against her skin.

Knowing what was coming, Nihla removed her hand from between her legs and let Anette slide hers into the same spot, trusting the Guardsman’s more brutal and less refined touch to bring her something new. Within only a few seconds, she was already feeling the difference, with more pressure meeting her inner nerves as she started to shiver uncontrollably.

It felt like her legs were going to collapse.

Cursing under her breath and only barely managing to mutter out another prayer to the Emperor, Nihla grunted as her body finally surrendered, contracting around the hand inside it and shooting a wave of electrocuting warmth across her muscles. Teetering in place, she almost collapsed onto the other woman, feeling all of her strength melt away as it was turned into simple, base pleasure.

They had both forgotten about the artefact. About their status. About the Galaxy at large.

In the moment, they were only concerned about one thing: the shared heat that bounced through them, giving them a few moments of joy in an otherwise stressful life. There was nothing to fear and no reason to struggle against it, so after Anette managed to lower the larger lady to the floor, the pair took a few seconds to lie there and regain their breath.

Both women knew that this was just a fleeting moment, but it was moment nonetheless.

Somewhere deep in the Warp, Slaanesh felt yet another pocket of emotion and excess, but it failed to grab their attention for very long. Among the billions of people succumbing to hedonism and obsessions, the Chaos God couldn’t track them all at once, no matter how much power they gained.

But they didn’t _need_ to. Whatever had caused that tiny bump in the Warp’s structure would be back, as always. It was only a matter of time, now that they had exposed themselves to the wonders of self-satisfaction, lust, greed, or whatever other excesses they had chosen to indulge in.

Pleasure was never a one-time feeling. Those who tasted the gift of decadence would be back for more in due time.


End file.
